What's in a Name?
by Souls of Fire
Summary: This is a story about a diclonius who was born after her father was infected with the diclonius virus. She has been scarred for life and doesn't remember her name. Will she remember her name? She battles with her inner diclonius to stay normal or kill.
1. Prologue

**AN: Okay, so, this is my first Fan Fiction. Don't be too hard on me. . It's also un-beta'd, as I did the editing all myself. If you have any suggestions, tell me, although I doubt I'll get any readers anyways. Anyways, if you do read this, please review, because this is my first one and I could really use some feedback! Thanks for reading!**

_"What's in a name? That which we call a rose__  
__By any other name would smell as sweet."_

_-Juliet, __Romeo and Juliet, __William Shakespeare._

**Prologue**

"Congratulations, the nurse said as she walked through the hospital room door. "You have a new, healthy baby girl!"

The mother looked over towards the nurse from her position in the hospital bed and her bright eyes fell on the little bundle in the nurses arms. She reached out eagerly towards her new daughter; her first child, the most important thing in the world to her right now. When the nurse placed the bundle in her arms, she brought the child gently to her chest in the embrace of a mother.

While the mother continued to caress the tiny bundle with her warm, loving eyes, the father just stared. The nurse, noticing his stare and expression of shock, began in a reassuring tone, "Oh, don't worry about that, it's just a minor protrusion of the skull. It's a harmless mutation, and won't affect…" The nurse drifted off as she noticed the man's sudden change of expression from speechless shock to fear. The nurse continued on, but any further information she gave was not absorbed as the man's thoughts began to rush back and forth and mind was too busy to comprehend anything she said.

_Oh God, it can't be…_

"…live relatively normal lives…"

_How is this possible? Is it really?_

"…pink hair and eyes tend to go with…"

_Why? Why us?_

"…recessive gene manifesting itself…"

_Why our family?_

The nurse continued to assure the father, but to no avail, because he now wasn't listening at all. None of it mattered. None of it at all. All that mattered was that he, with his very own eyes, filled with hatred, was staring. Staring at a child that wasn't human. Staring at a child with two small horns at the top of its head.

"You don't seriously think we can keep that thing, _do you?"_ The man shouted at his wife, his fists clenched and his face slowly transitioning into the pale and shocked state it was in, into a red face, hot with rage.

"Yes John, I do," the woman said with clenched teeth as the tears welled up in her chocolate brown eyes.

"Do you know what that thing is?" He asked slowly, trying not to explode with pure rage.

"Yes, I do," the woman said slowly in between shuddering breaths.

"Then you sh—"

"But that won't stop me from loving her!" She interrupted loudly. "She's our _daughter,_ John! We're supposed to _love_ our daughter, not want to destroy her because she's a little different!"

"She is not _just_ a little different!" John exploded at his wife, who was now holding her face in the palms of her hands. "That—that _thing_ is not _human!"_ He added as he indicated the object of their argument, sleeping in the crib behind them, her horns just poking out over the top of the blanket she was wrapped in.

"That _thing_ is our daughter!" She growled as she now clutched the hospital bed sheets in her fists.

There was a silence, only broken by the occasional cry of an infant in a nearby room. "Victoria," the man finally addressed his wife. "We have to kill it. That thing is dangerous."

Victoria was in shock. When was the last time he had used her full name? He _never _called her Victoria. She was always his Tori. And how could he want to kill their daughter? How could he even _think _that she would want to do the same? It took her a minute to pull herself together before she finally uttered that fateful word: "No."

And with that, John left. His final words before he slammed the door behind himself were, "Well, I can't live with that thing, and if you'll live with it, then I can't live with you."

Tori then just stared at the ceiling in her hospital room, her mind blank. Nothing mattered. Nothing at all. There was nothing in this world worth living for. _Except…_ Tori's eyes fell slowly to the crib in the corner where her daughter was crying, woken up by the argument. She pushed the call button and requested for the responding nurse to bring her daughter to her.

The nurse brought the crying infant to her mother's weak arms where she was cradled with such love and tender care. Tori gazed into those pink eyes and stroked the little wisp of pink hair on top of the baby's head. As she did this, she made a promise to her daughter. "I'll make sure that nobody rejects you ever again. I will love you for who you are and will give you a life as normal as possible."

"Will you be needing anything else?" the nurse asked with one hand on the doorhandle.

"No, Tori replied without tearing her eyes from her daughter. "I have all I need right here in my arms."

**AN: So, how did you like it? Please review. I already have chapter one written out, I just need to type it up now. PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK! Thanks!**


	2. Routine

**AN: Okay, so, hi people! Thank you so much if you read the prologue, and if you didn't, READ IT! Anyways, please review, because I need feedback! By the way, the plot will be kicking off in the next chapter. I have it all planned out. 8D Enjoy!**

"Mom, why do we have to do this again?"

"You know very well why we do honey," my mother replied as she unplugged the hair trimmer.

"Sorry, I keep forgetting," I responded as I brushed off some clippings of pink hair from my shoulders.

"How can you keep forgetting when we have this conversation every time I shave your hair?" She chucked as she pulled a small broom out of the cabinet behind her and began to sweep up wiles of pink hair on the ground. She looked up from her cleaning and said in her bright voice, "You and I both know that you just keep asking with the hope that I'll say we don't have to do it anymore."

I looked down into my lap and twisted a larger piece of fallen hair in-between my fingers and admitted, "Well, sort of."

Mother just chuckled and chook her head, continuing with her sweeping.

"Tell me again anyways," I requested. I flicked the piece of hair I was playing with into the pile accumulated on the ground and turned to face my mother. She was still bent over that little broom that was always too short for her tall figure, trying to sweep up every last bit of pink off of the white of the linoleum kitchen floor.

She then straightened up, and folded her arms with the broom still in hand, and put her weight on one leg so one hip popped out slightly. She formed this same pose every time she was amused with my inquisitiveness. I made a puppy-dog face over the back of the kitchen chair I was sitting on, and she rolled her eyes and sighed. She bent over the broom again, but as she resumed her cleaning, she began to explain in the way she always did, every time I asked. "We need to shave your hair because you have special pink hair, and people might not treat you the same way if they see you are special." I smiled at the word. When she was describing my differences, she always used the word "special." I knew I was different, and it didn't really bother me. I think Mom knew that, but she still used that word, and I liked it nonetheless.

I then asked the question I'd always ask, every time we'd have this conversation. "But why do we have to shave it? Why can't I just dye my hair?"

She then answered the way she always answered, "Because then you would get pink roots. And besides, wearing a wig also covers your horns, so you don't need to wear a separate hat to cover them up." She turned around and opened the cupboard behind her, putting the broom and the dustpan away.

She shut the cupboard door, and as she turned back to face me, I asked, "But why does my wig have to be blonde? Why can't it be brown, like yours?" I picked up said wig from its resting place on the counter and pulled it down snugly over the top of my horns and my naked head. I adjusted the false, wavy, pale yellow locks wile looking at my reflection in the side of one of the gleaming pots on the spotless stove.

"It has to be blonde," Mom continued, wiping her sweaty hands on the apron she always wore, "Because that way we can say your beautiful eyes are pink because you are albino, and albino people have pink eyes and very light hair." She walked up to my side and gently put her hand on my shoulder. This was her way of saying "I love you."

I wrapped my arms around her waist, and looked up into her soft face and into those brown eyes that always reminded me of melting chocolate. "Thanks Mom, I love you too," I said as I nestled my face into her flower print apron. We stayed like this for a minute, as it was moments like these that we both cherished.

The silence was broken when Mom sighed and put her hand on top of my wig-clad head. "Well, you'd better go practice your multiplication. You have a quiz on Monday, and we want to get ahead, don't we? If you memorize the eights times table, I might take you to the park tomorrow."

I released my grip from around her waist and decided to submit to her bribe. I loved going to the park with Mom. "Will you push me on the swings?" I asked, even though I knew the answer was yes. She always pushed me on the swings, even though I knew how to pump and push myself.

"Of course," she replied softly and crouched down to my eight-year-old height. "Now," she continued as she placed her hands on my shoulders. "Go practice!" She turned me gently in the direction of the staircase and my bedroom.

"Fine," I agreed as I hurried up the blue-carpeted steps towards my room.

I'll call you when dinner's ready!" I heard as I dashed up the stairs towards my room. I could already smell the scent of chicken sizzling in a pan downstairs as it wafted up the stairs and followed me to my room where I sad down and pulled my ocean-blue backpack onto my lap and got to work, the whole time anticipating the fun we were going to have tomorrow.

**AN: You like? I thought it was better than the prologue. So, please review, and let me know what you think! I'd really appreciate it, and have only ever gotten one review on a fanfic before! Please and thank you!**


	3. Reach

**AN: Well hello there. Thank you so much to the three amazing reviewers I had! You just really brighten my day, and I really honestly appreciate it so much! A very big thanks to two of my best friends ever, Phoenix of the cupcakes, and my other BFF who doesn't have a penname on here. You know who you are! Anyways, so, I'm surprised this chapter turned out to be this long. I know it's not incredibly long, but I thought it'd just take up a tiny fraction of a page, and it ended up being much longer than expected. This originally was just going to be them going to the park where…stuff happens, but I decided that it needed more foreshadowing, and I put this dream sequence in here, only it took up the whole chapter, so I just made it its own chapter. I hope you like it! Enjoy!**

_I was all alone, in a dark room, with a single spotlight shining on my body. I was not conscious of anything. My mind was blank. Then, I felt something. It wasn't sudden. It was more like it was there the whole time, and now I just became aware that it was there._

_I couldn't tell what it was at first. It was just an awareness of something inside of me. Slowly, that awareness grew, and became more of a realization. I realized that there was something inside me, and that I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was. And yet, I almost could. Yes, I definitely could now. It was a…wanting? A yearning? No, it was more of a…an impulse. Yes! That's what it was. An impulse! An impulse to…grab? No. That definitely wasn't it. To stretch? Almost. To…to…to reach! That's what it was!_

_I was not fully aware that I had an impulse to reach. But to reach for what? No matter how hard I searched, I couldn't figure that out. While I was searching, the impulse grew stronger and stronger, and I then asked myself, "Why does it matter? Just reach!"_

"_But reach for what?"_

"_Reach out," another voice said, and although I was certain it was coming from within me, this voice was…different._

_I followed its instructions anyways. I reached out with my arms, and reached out with my mind. I tried searching for something to grab onto, and my mind tried to grasp something. As I realized my arms were flailing into blank, dark space, I found that I only had to reach out with my mind. A voice in my head confirmed my suspicions and I dropped my arms into my lap, ready to try again. This time I tried to reach out with just my mind, but found my arms stretching out in front of me, nonetheless. I gave a mental shrug and just let my arms stray as they wished._

_I focused on extending my mind, and found that there was something. Something to grab onto! I reached out, and saw that whatever I was reaching for was very…vague. As I got closer and closer to reaching it however, it became clearer and clearer. I kept reaching, and reaching, and just when I thought I was at my mind's limit, I grabbed it._

_All of a sudden, there was a rush, and then a burst of energy as I felt something explode from within me._

_Stunned by the sudden burst and flow of energy, I stayed there, frozen for a second, and then quickly recoiled._

"_What was that?" I asked myself, breathless._

"_That was good," the strange voice cooed to me. "You reached, and you succeeded. Now, reach out once more._

_I followed the voice's orders and reached out once more, but I felt the burst of energy immediately this time, and recoiled in shock of the ease it came to me with. Then I realized that the energy wasn't hurting me. Determined to not draw back again, I braced myself and extended my mind's arms again, this time prepared for the burst of energy when it came._

_I didn't retract my mind again, and although I flinched slightly, I let the energy move freely. It felt nice, this feeling. It was like something inside of me had been pent up for a hundred years and was now released and finally able to stretch freely._

"_Yes, it does feel good, doesn't it?" the voice cooed to me._

_I nodded my head slowly in agreement._

"_Then reach further," it whispered urgently._

_I focused my energy and instead of letting it wander, I focused it, and decided to see how far it could extend._

_As the energy expanded, I realized it had a certain…_feeling_ to it. The feeling was an experimental feeling, and almost a determined one, like it was determined to test its limits and to see how far it could reach._

_It was exciting, this reaching out, and I enjoyed it. I reached further, and faster, and further, and faster, and further, and faster, and—"_

Ouch! "What the..?"

I woke with a start as I pulled my hands back to my body. Apparently, I had hit my hands on the ceiling where it dips low right above where my bed lay.

I examined my hands and sucked on one throbbing middle finger while I assessed the damage to my other hand. My fingers had bent back in a funny way and one of my nails was broken, but there was no major damage, just probably some bruising later. Besides, the pain was ebbing away now and there was only a dull throbbing in my middle fingers, which had taken the hardest hit.

The door opened and Mom poked her head inside my room, looking to the left, and then to the right before asking, "Is everything all right in here? I thought I heard a banging noise."

I pulled my finger out of my mouth and wiped it on my sky-blue faux-silk pajamas. My mouth now unobstructed, I replied, "No, everything's fine, I just whacked my hands on the ceiling."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, it's nothing."

Her eyebrows were knit together in concern as she opened her mouth as if to ask a question, but decided against it and shut it again, with an almost comical _clack_. She turned around and walked away, calling over her shoulder and through the open door, "I'm making pancakes for breakfast. Come down and eat quickly and then we can leave early for the park."

"M'kay!" I called back as I rolled out of bed, careful not to hit my head like I did my hands. As I stood up, I noticed a strange feeling inside me that wasn't there before. It was almost a satisfied feeling, like I knew something I didn't know before.

I shook my head and ignored the odd sensation, and then pulled my pajama shirt over my head and tossed it into the corner. I walked over to my closet and opened the doors, ready to pick out an outfit for my special day with Mom.

**AN: Okay, so, I hope you liked it! Please review, and all that jazz! I'd like to give a big thanks to all the people who reviewed so far! Your reviews really make me just want to keep writing and they really brighten my entire day. I'd also like to give a HUGE thank you to my three best friends in the whole wide world, Bre, Paige, and Anna! I'm so thankful for your support and advice and you guys really help me and inspire me! :) Have an amazing day, everyone!**


	4. The Cause

**AN: Thank you so much to my reviewers! And a really big thanks to Onyxswarm who spotted a mistake in the info for this fanfic, and who also put this story on Story Alert. It honestly made my day! :) Thanks so much, Onyx! I really appreciate every review!**

**Okay, just telling you peeps, if the format is messed up, it's because I typed half of it on an itsy bitsy keyboard on my iPod Touch because I was away from home with no computer. I'll probably fix anything later, but for now, you're just gonna have to deal with it.**

**Anyways, behold, Chapter 3! Plot starts here. *mad writer's laugh* *cough cough* *hack* *wheeze* Anyways, I hope you like it, and please review! Reviews help me and keep me motivated to get up and write, so please give me that motivation! I will love you for ever and ever if you do!**

**Okay, enough rambling. READING TIME! 8D Enjoy! (hopefully)**

**Oh, by the way, sanku very much, Anna for being so inspiring. 8D You make me want to get up and write!**

**Oh, and also, thank you so much Breanne (Riverspirit86) for always being the first to review when a new chapter comes out! It seems like I upload it, and then thirty seconds later I already have a review, and it's always from you! You also gave me an idea for the history of a future character in the story! SANKU VERY MUCH! You are one of my best friends and always will be! 8^D I'll wuvz joo forevers and evers.**

**By the way, people, if you like D. Gray-Man, and especially Lavi x Kanda pairings, then I suggest you check out her stories. She's Riverspirit86, go check her out. Her stories are really original and totally full of awesomeness! Just like a cream-filled doughnut. Gosh, I'm making myself hungry! Anyways, thanks so much, Breanne, and to all of my readers, too. I love you all!**

**Oh, you can read the story now, by the way. Author's note, OVER.  
**

I pressed my face against the window as all the suburban homes passed by in a blur.

"Get your nose off the window," my mother scolded me as she gave me a sideways glance from her position in the driver's seat. She returned her eyes to the road as I removed my face from the window and she added, "I just cleaned the windows yesterday and I don't want to have to clean up the smudges again."

"Fine, Mom," I said with a resigned sigh. Mom always had to have everything spotless, as demonstrated by her meticulous cleaning up of my hair clippings from yesterday. You did NOT want to get between her and a speck of dirt. "When are we going to get there?" I inquired after listening to the sound of the tires against the road as we transitioned from the local roads to the highway.

"Oh, in about thirty minutes," Mom estimated, eyeing the clock on the dashboard.

We rode on in silence for a while as I turned my attention back to the window and the scenery beyond it. After a while, I slouched down into my seat and rested my eyes for a while.

Peering out the window after a while, I saw that Mom was pulling onto an exit in the highway and we pulled into a more residential area. This area was more recognizable than the barren highway, but not because it was easier to distinguish from other areas, but because we used to drive by here every day.

The park that was our destination was the park that we frequented before we moved to our current home. We lived in one of the smaller homes in the area before Mom got her new job and often provided our own entertainment by going to the park. Our happiest days were at that park, and some of my best memories came from there. The new development we moved to had a park, but it just wasn't the same. We decided we'd still go to the old park, but we went less frequently because of the distance, and the park visits became more of a treat for both me and my mother. We both loved spending time together and being able to escape from the real world, if only for a couple of hours.

This particular visit to the park was special, though. It was our first visit after winter. Normally, we would go during winter, but this past winter was just too long and too cold to go. It would feel nice, getting out there after such a long time, and it would feel extra special and like a more precious experience.

I woke from my reminiscence of past park visits as I heard the crunching of tires on gravel. I sat up from my slouched position in the car seat and excitedly peered out the window as we pulled into a parking spot in the small, gravel-covered parking lot in front of the park playground.

The playground was not very big, and was old and most of the equipment was rusty, but the playground was loved by many people and thus well taken care of by the neighborhood.

The playground was a little square area filled with mulch held in by a worn wooden frame, sort of like a giant mulch-filled sandbox. Inside the wooden box there stood a swing set. There were three swings, all with blue plastic seats and rusty metal chains. Someone had taken the liberty of wrapping a thin layer of protective foam around the rusty chains to keep children from cutting their hands. Beyond and slightly to the right side of the swings stood a metal slide. It had been painted bright canary yellow at one point, but was currently faded to a more creamy color. The paint was chipping in places, especially on the handrails leading up the little metal steps to the top of the slide. To the left of the slide was an old squeaky see-saw, and beyond that was a single bench where parents could monitor their kids in the shade of the trees that lined the playground.

On the right side of the little mulched-in playground, through the trees, was a little grassy area where families would picnic at or bring their dog to play with. On the opposite side of the playground there was a little strip of a sandbox. The sandbox was as long as the playground but only about half as wide, so it ran in a little strip beside it. The sandbox always had a little sand spilling out around the edges and every once in a while you could find a forgotten toy half-buried in the sand.

I tore my gaze from the playground beyond the window and pushed open the car door. I slammed the door of the old beat-up light-blue Oldsmobile and walked around to the trunk to help my mom unload the blanket and the cooler. I stood on my tiptoes, reached into the trunk and pulled out the fuzzy blue blanket we would sit and eat lunch on after I played in the playground. I tucked the rolled-up blanket under my left arm as Mom held the cooler in her right hand. I held mine up to her and she took it, swinging it gently as we walked across the playground to the bench.

I let go of Mom's hand as I neared the bench and eagerly raced towards it. Next to the bench, I kicked off my shoes while resting a hand on it and set the blanket down on the seat. I then made a beeline for the sandbox as I always did, every time we came here, but stopped short. Mom looked up at me as she set down the cooler next to the blanket and noticed my sudden stop. "What's wrong?" she asked, a crease forming between her eyebrows in the way it always did when she was concerned.

"I think I'm going to do the swings first today," I replied slowly. It was quiet for a second, and then I turned my head and looked over my shoulder towards mother and asked, "Is that okay?"

She looked confused at my deviation from the routine, but said, "Yeah, sure…Why not?" I returned to the bench to let Mom wipe my feet before I put my orange flip flops back on. As she was pulling out a wet wipe, she asked, ""Is there any particular reason why you want to do the swings first?"

"No," I replied as she wiped my right foot, then my left. "I just felt like doing something different today." This answer was true. Today felt different, so I just thought I would do something different as well.

I slipped my flip flops back on and took Mom's hand as we both turned and headed towards the simple swing set. I then returned to the routine and asked a question I asked every time we went to the park. "Mom, will you push me on the swings?"

Mom chuckled and replied as she always did, "Of course, sweetie." She put her hand on my back and I wrapped my arms around her waist and hugged her. I then dashed off and hoisted myself up onto the swing on the far right.

I smiled to the kid on the swing beside my as my mother moved behind me and adjusted the hem of my little floral dress that I picked out for our special day. Mom started to push me, and I kicked my feet up as the swing journeyed towards the sky and the top of the trees. I had to scrunch up my toes to keep my shoes from flying off, which they always ended up doing anyways.

This was how it always was. I would always swing on the same swing, and Mom would always push me, even though I was able to pump since I was about six. I don't think Mom really minded pushing me, and I think that she just liked spending time with me while pushing.

We swung silently for a while, watching the other children who were enjoying their day at the park go down the slide and climb back up the steps. After a few minutes, my dress started to slip uncomfortably, and I tried to adjust it by sliding around in the swing, but that just made me slip a little. Carefully, I let go of the swing with one hand to adjust my dress, but as the swing was swooping forward, my dress slid underneath me, and I shot forward, losing my grip with my other hand, and flying forward off the swing, into the mulch at the bottom of the slide.

I cried out as sharp pieces of mulch pierced the skin on my palms and knees. After the pain, I felt a cool breeze. This breeze brought shock to me. It brought shock because even though it was just a gentle breeze, the breeze should have blown my hair around my face, but it didn't. Instead, it blew the hair on the wig lying on the ground a few feet in front of me.

**AN: HAHA CLIFFIES! 8^D Oh no! What'll happen next? You'll just have to find out in the next chapter, I'm afraid. Well, this chapter was longer than my previous ones. I really hope they will get longer and longer. I've seen some chapters that are like, 27 pages long, and this one's only what, three? So, yeah, but what can I do? I'm just a newbie writer. ~ Ah well. So, review please? More reviews make me write faster! They really make me want to keep writing and are the only reason I haven't completely abandoned this project already! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! Review like the success of this story depends on it, 'cause it does. Anyways, thanks if you read this, and poo you if you didn't. 8P**


	5. It Happened

**AN: Hello, everyone! Thanks to all who reviewed and read! I really appreciate all feedback! It makes me happy! 8D**

**Okay, if my writing in first person bugs you, I'm sorry. It has to be like that in the beginning. ~ I'll explain why later, when doing so won't ruin the story. Sorry, it just has to be that way. I don't like writing in first person, but it's crucial to the plot that the story is in this format. I'll change it after a certain point in the story though, and that should be coming soon.**

**Now, about the length. If the shortness of my chapters bothers you, I'm sorry. This is my first serious fan fiction, and as you can see, I'm very new at this. So, go easy on me. My chapters are growing in length, though, bit by bit. If you be patient, you will eventually get what you want. I just want to let you know that I'm trying!**

**Now, to everyone who **_**does**_** like my story, SANKU SOOOO MUCH! I love ya lots!**

**As always, a big thanks to my friends, Breanne, Paige, and Anna, who support me and encourage me all the time! I love you guys! You are so helpful and you make me want to keep writing! LOVE YA!**

**All right, as always, enjoy, and please review when you're done! Your input really helps! Also, feel free to ask questions if you wish, I would be delighted to address any and all questions and concerns.**

**Enjoy, please!**

It all happened in slow-motion. I remember thinking that it looked like something from a movie, all dramatic and such. I also recall being surprised and a little put-out at the fact that I could think something so trivial amongst the chaos that was slowly but surely unfolding around me.

I raised a shaking and sweaty hand to my head, and grasped one of the horns that stood prominently on my hairless head, as if to confirm that they were there. Putting my hand back down and using it to begin to prop myself up, my gaze wandered to the top of the slide where it stood erect to my right.

What I saw there would be burned into my mind forever.

I saw the shining faces of the children at play slowly turn into expressions of shock, fear, and disgust as they saw a hideous creature with two horns on its head lay at the foot of the slide. Those faces would haunt me for the rest of my life, no matter how hard I would try to purge my mind of those memories.

Seeing those countenances of horror and repulsion, I quickly removed my arms from underneath me and used them instead to cover my bald head in an attempt to hide my horns as I pressed my face into the mulch beneath me. It was too late, though. They had seen.

Nonetheless, and despite the mulch prodding at and cutting my face, I still tried to hide my horns from view in the hope that the children hadn't gotten a good enough glance to actually know what they saw.

But sadly, fate's not that kind.

As I continued to hide my abnormality, I burrowed my face deeper into the ground as I heard the park grow quiet. I felt the mulch scrape my face, and even break the skin in places. My breathing grew abnormal as the silence seemed to echo endlessly around me, and I began to panic.

My airways constricted and I tried to call out, but all that escaped my lips was a feeble wheeze. "Mom…" I finally managed to choke out, and I could hear her footsteps in the mulch as she hurried to my side.

She knelt by me and snatched my wig hastily from where it had fallen. I felt the soft locks against my bare arms covering my head, and quickly lifted them to allow Mom to slip the golden wig back into place over my horns.

I tried to thank her, but merely let out a whimper as she placed a hand on my shoulder. "It's okay, honey," she whispered to me, comfortingly, but I could hear the panic she was trying to cover up in her voice.

My eyes, which were now wet with tears, opened wide as I heard this emotion in her voice, because Mom was always calm in situations of distress. She never showed any panic around me so as not to make me worry. Hearing her like this, with her fear showing through her mask of calm really freaked me out.

Still shaking, I started to prop myself up. Once I was in a sitting position, Mom brushed away some of the mulch that was sticking to my face, and wiped away a tear that was forming in the corner of my eye. "There, there," she cooed, her voice calm again and her mask back in place. "It's going to be all right." She pulled a yellow packet out of her pocket and pulled open the plastic flap on the front. She pulled out a wet wipe and handed it to me. "Here, use this to wipe your face and hands."

I took the wipe from her and used it to wipe away the dirt and drying blood from my hands from where the mulch had left tiny little cuts earlier. I pressed the little towel to my face and felt the antibiotic stinging in the tiny cuts and scrapes scattered across my cheeks and forehead.

Mother then stood up to her towering full height, and I became more aware of my surroundings as I cleaned my wounds. The parents of the children at play had moved over to crowd around us now, with their children in their arms or clinging to their legs. It was quiet except for the occasional murmur or the short of a child enjoying himself in the field beyond the trees to the right.

Someone finally decided to break the silence and asked accusingly, "Were those _horns_ on it's head?"

"_No._" Mother said, a little too quickly and angrily to be convincing. "No, they're not. And my _daughter_ is not an '_it'!_" she spat. Her mask was slipping and rage radiated off her in waves as she glared at the woman who posed the question.

"Then, what did I see on her head?" she retorted. "I know I saw _something_." Her response was followed with a chorus of 'Me too's and 'So did I's.

Th-they're tumors," Mother stuttered, her confidence fading. "My daughter had cancer, and you're pointing _fingers _at her like she did something _wrong_?" She clenched her fists as her rage returned to her and as her eyes seemed to burn holes through the accuser.

"I don't think tumors are pointy and triangular," a man at the back of the crowd pointed out. A chorus of confirmation rang out as Mother stuttered and tried to come up with another excuse. Her anger was quickly being replaced by panic, and it seemed her mask of calm had now vanished altogether.

My face grew wet with tears as all hell broke loose. Through the clamor, I could hear small children crying, parents calling out, "I've heard of demon children like this," and, "Don't make eye contact with it!"

There was one voice, however, that stood out to me the most. It was a small voice. The voice of a small child. It was the voice of a small child that said, "Daddy, why is the scary girl crying?"

My world came crashing in on me.

I moaned a cry of agony as I stood up and threw the wipe I was clutching to the ground. Mulch fell from my knees as I ran away from the crowd and darted around the swing set where a lone swing was still swaying in the breeze. I ran as my hands covered my face, and I tripped over one of the wood planks lining the playground. I immediately god up again and continued to run, completely ignoring the blood now running down my legs and oozing out of my palms, which I had put out to break my fall.

As I reached the Oldsmobile, I began to bang on the car door with my fists. "Open the door!" I cried. I placed my hands on the car and rested my tear-stained face on the window. "I want to go home…" I sobbed as I heard Mom's feet crunching in the gravel behind me. "I want to go home, Mommy," I repeated as she arrived behind me and placed a warm hand on my shoulder. "Take me home…"

I felt my legs begin to tremble, and let them give out underneath me. I slowly sank down, my hands still pressed against the car, sliding down with me, leaving a trail of blood behind them the whole way.

I felt like a glob of miserable mush, just sitting there, sobbing. I felt like I could turn into a puddle of despair at any time as I moaned, "Mommy…I don't ever want to go to the park again."

"It's okay, honey, we don't ever have to, ever again," Mom said as she sank down to my level in the parking lot gravel. "Come on, let's go home." She wrapped her arms around me and I let her carry my weak form and place me inside the car. As she buckled me in, I began to feel drowsy and even weaker.

When she had made sure I was okay, she moved around to the drivers side and hopped in. As my body went limp, so did my mind, and for a second, I thought I saw a glimmer of a tear at the corner of Mom's eye in the rear-view mirror before my consciousness slipped away from me, and I fell asleep.

* * *

_It was all dark around me. I could almost feel the nothingness. But in the back of my head, I began to feel a presence._

"_Open your eyes" the presence said. My eyes flashed open, and I found myself in a familiar black room with a single spotlight shining on me._

"_Wh—why am I here again?" I called out as I looked around the empty void, panic seeping into my mind._

"_I have to ask you to do something for me," the voice explained. "It's just a favor, and I'm sure you'll want to do it anyways." The voice was soothing, and intoxicating in a way. My mind relaxed, but I still felt a little tug somewhere behind my belly button that was telling me that something was wrong._

_I gulped and nodded slowly. "Okay, what is it?"_

"_I want you," the voice said quietly, "to kill her!" My eyes grew wide and the little tug inside of me grew into a persistent yank and the voice continued. It now whispered into my ear, "I want you to kill your mother. I'll be waiting."_

"Noooooo!" My eyes flashed open as I shot upwards, flinging the blankets off of me.

"Honey?" a worried voice called as I tried to slow down my breathing. The owner of the worried voice rushed to my side and asked, "Is everything all right?"

"I'm okay Mom." _I'm okay, I'm okay. It was just a dream. Just a bad dream. That's all it was. Just a bad dream. _I repeated this to myself before saying out loud to Mom. "Yeah, I'm okay. It was just a bad dream."

I felt Mom hold one of my bandaged hands delicately between both of hers. "Oh, honey," she said with a sympathetic frown on her face. "Tell me about it."

I was quiet for a minute, thinking. I didn't know why, but I decided I shouldn't tell her. I guess it was because I didn't want her to worry, but there was another reason that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

"I…I don't remember…" I lied as she patted the hand she was holding gently.

"It's okay, h—" She was cut off as her cell phone rang loudly. She pulled the small device out of her pocket and flipped it open. Seeing the caller ID, she said to me, "Sorry, sweetie, I really have to take this call." I nodded and she pushed the talk button. "Hello?" she said into the phone as she stood up and walked into the kitchen.

I sighed and scratched on itch on my head and realized I wasn't wearing my wig. I sat up from where I was lying on the couch in the living room and found my wig resting on the arm of the dark blue couch at my feet. I reached over and grabbed it, and I then pulled it snugly on top of my head. I grabbed a curly lock and sniffed it, deeply inhaling the sweet aroma of roses. Mom must've washed it, because it smelled like the rose-scented soap she always used. She always bought that kind for some reason. For as long as I can remember, we've never used anything other than that kind at home. I didn't mind, though. I never grew tired of the smell of roses.

I looked down at my dress and saw that it was the same one I had worn to the park. I sniffed a sleeve to check for the scent of rose-scented laundry detergent, but I found none. Mom must not have washed it, which surprised me. I was sure that she would want to get the stains out of it as soon as possible. Confused, I checked the dress for said stains, but found none. I even went as far as to take off the dress altogether to get a better look at it, but still found no bloodstains. This struck me as quite odd, but I was happy nonetheless. Feeling satisfied that at least one thing didn't go terribly wrong today, I climbed back onto the couch, being careful of my bandaged knees.

"You and I both know that you remember what your dream was about just perfectly."

I jumped about a mile and looked around wildly as I heard a voice right in my ear. "Who are you? Where are you? What do you want?" I flung questions wildly as I stood up and looked around the room for the source of the noise.

"Honey?" Mom called from the kitchen. "Are you talking to someone in there? I thought I heard voices."

"No, uh… It's just the TV!" I called back quickly. I grabbed the remote from the coffee table in front of the couch and turned the television on, and then turned the volume up so it would cover up most noises I made.

"What are you watching?"

"Uh," I said, glancing at the screen quickly. "SpongeBob."

"Okay. I'm going to make baked ziti for dinner, okay? It's your favorite!"

"Sure," I replied halfheartedly. I then focused my attention back to the current situation happening in the living room. "Who are you?" I asked the voice again.

"_Well, I know you remember me. I met you in your dreams."_ My eyes widened as I heard this. _"No, you're not going crazy,"_ the voice continued. _"I've been in your mind all along. I just decided to wake up and introduce myself to you last night in your dreams."_

"Wh—why are you here?" I stuttered, my palms growing sweaty under the bandages.

"_To help you out,"_ the voice replied smoothly. _"I'm just here to assist you. Now, do you remember what I told you that you need to do in the little dream you just had?"_

"No! I won't do it!"

"_You need to do it. It is your destiny. Doing it will make everything better."_ I shook my head furiously, but the voice still continued. _"It's her fault you suffered today. It's her fault you fell off the swing."_

"No, it's not! That doesn't make any sense!"

"_Yes it does. It makes all the sense in the world. Now, I want you to reach out, just like you did so well in our dream. I want you to reach out and—"_

"No! I won't do it!" I covered my ears, pushing on them as hard as I could, but I could still hear the now malicious voice snarling in my ear.

"_Yes, you _will_."_ The voice was angry and full of venom. _"Listen, you are a diclonius; the superior race! You were made to wipe out humans. It's for the better good. The woman does not deserve to live. She's _human_, and she could have stood up for you better at the park. She—"_

"She did the best she could!" I growled through my teeth, hot tears streaming down my face.

"_She could have done better. That woman knows what you are, and she tried to change that. She tried to make you _human. _A pathetic, worthless, hu—"_

"SHUT UP!" I screamed. I heard something drop to the floor on the kitchen and shatter, and saw Mom rush into the living room.

"Honey, is everything okay?"

"_Do it. Do it now, she's right there."_

"No, no, no…"

"Honey?"

"_Do it!"_

"NO!"

"_NOW!"_

It all happened so fast. I screamed in rage, and the voice took over. Energy exploded out of me one second, and the next, red. It was red. Everything was red. The floor and the walls were coated in scarlet blood. Mother lay on the ground, soaking in it, dead. I just stood there, splattered with crimson. I looked down at my clothes, and at my green dress that was now dyed a deep burgundy. My dress. My perfect dress. Ruined.

_Ruined._

That's the last thing I thought before my body collapsed, and my head hit the floor with a resounding _crack._

**AN: D: Why am I so mean to my characters? Ah well. A plot is a plot. So, did you like it? It was longer than the other chappies! About twice as long, actually. Anyways, thanks so much for reading, and please tell your friends about this story. Thanks to my buddies for supporting me, and sorry to my characters for being so mean. D: Okay, so tell me what you think about it, please review, it really helps! 8D Oh, and I'm getting a beta reader soon, so, things might get better. Alright. Peace out.**


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